


Coffee and Croissants

by meteor-sword (vaenire)



Series: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020 [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Katara's POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/meteor-sword
Summary: “Katara, have you noticed Dad being kind of weird?”Katara almost choked on her first sip of her tea.“What do you mean?”He shrugged, still sprawled halfway over the counter, and looked over his shoulder toward where their Dad sat with Bato. “I don’t know... if you haven’t noticed, maybe I’m just…”“They’re flirting,” Katara cut him off with a sharp whisper, leaning in so no one else would overhear. “Aren’t they?”//Bato owns a bakery, and Katara works for him. It's a good job, apart from having to watch her Dad obliviously flirt with her family-friend-turned-boss every single day.Bakoda Fleet Week Day 1:Modern AU | With Kids
Relationships: Bato & Katara, Bato/Hakoda (Avatar)
Series: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858234
Comments: 11
Kudos: 167
Collections: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020





	Coffee and Croissants

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of [ Bakoda Fleet Week! ](https://bakodafleetweek.tumblr.com)

Bato was always on a break when Katara got to work in the morning. It clearly wasn’t because he was lazy— quite the opposite, really. He was baking bread and readying dough for hours before Katara arrived at seven AM, and always offered her some fresh sliced bread for breakfast. 

He always sat at the table in the back corner opposite the front counter, enjoying the bright morning sunlight that streamed in the storefront, though Katara only caught a glimpse of him there before he was going behind the counter to retrieve a plain white mug and filling it with black coffee, pouring a dot of cream into it just the way Katara’s Dad liked it. 

See, Hakoda gave Katara a ride to work each morning, and sat with his friend at the table until either of them had other responsibilities to attend to. 

And if it was a Saturday, when Hakoda made a point to give himself the day off, he would stay at that table Katara’s entire shift from seven to three.

When Katara first started working for her Father’s friend, shortly after she turned sixteen, she thought it was a little annoying that her Dad would hover around the bakery all day, accepting sweet bun after coffee after sourdough sandwich from Bato. Then she realized he almost never interfered with her work or tried to be too hands-on when a problem arose with a customer. No, he sat back and let her learn the ropes: really, he seemed to be there for the express purpose of tasting every batch of Bato’s creations. 

Then Katara realized how Bato seemed to anticipate Hakoda’s return at the end of the day when he did leave for tribal business, or to give Sokka a ride, or whatever else came up in the day to day. 

The two were great friends— Bato might as well be her second father, with how much he had helped her parents raising her and Sokka, and Katara chalked all this behavior up to this friendship for the first few months. 

When Bato got into the habit of retying his hair before Hakoda picked Katara up, having a cup of coffee poured for him every morning when he dropped her off, Katara started to think there might be more to it.

What confused her was Bato’s apparent indifference once her Dad was there. He sat in his chair perfectly straight, considering his friend with bemused smiles and dropping well placed jokes and ribbings, returning each one of Hakoda’s, not ever implying or belying anything more. 

She came to recognize her Dad, on the other hand, as a terrible flirt. He would coo over the coffee Bato gave him, fawning over how Bato made the best coffee— and Katara had drank the coffee before, thanks, and it was not that good. He leaned on his elbow and looked at Bato like he was the only person in the whole cafe, even during lunch rushes when traffic and volume picked up a nearly unbearable amount— and in the lull afterward, Hakoda would joke that Bato was getting so popular he barely had time for Hakoda anymore, which was simply untrue because Bato would take his mug and refill it and sit with Hakoda until one of his various baking timers went off. 

Katara wondered if she should just say something to her Dad. He was a sensitive man, even when Katara was an angsty teenager and when Sokka had relationship issues (which was often), Hakoda knew how to deal with it with finesse. He always put her and Sokka first, but they were getting older and with Sokka looking at transferring to a university soon, maybe her Dad needed a nudge toward starting a new chapter.

If he was ready to move on from their mother, Katara wanted to be supportive of him in return. 

As long as she was interpreting this right, at least. 

She was absolutely meaning to mention it during the morning drive to the bakery when Sokka suddenly ran out the door after them, deciding to hitch a ride for the first time that school year— his community college was a few blocks up from the strip mall Bato’s bakery was located in, but he had always refused the early morning offer of a ride, until today, conveniently. 

“You think Bato will have some of his sweet rolls ready?” Sokka asked excitedly, arranging his backpack on the floorboard behind Katara’s seat, himself in the center back seat so he could lean forward and talk to them. 

Maybe it was a saving grace. Maybe she should talk to Sokka about what she was witnessing before Dad. 

Bato was clearly surprised to see Sokka so early when the three came in, but he smiled and added a second croissant to the plate he was taking to their table, carrying that in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. 

“Hey, can I have some coffee too?” Sokka said, sitting up taller in his chair and making grabby hands at the croissant as Bato set down the plate and Katara grabbed her apron from the hook beside the register. Tying it behind her waist, she rolled her eyes at her brother who was sitting between Hakoda and Bato’s usual seats. She could see the slightly annoyed look Bato shot Sokka when he wasn’t looking and smiled to herself. 

“Is that… okay?” Bato asked Hakoda carefully, causing Sokka to pout. 

“I’m in college! I can have coffee!” 

Bato laughed and stood again, quickly retrieving a mug and filling it, and grabbed a creamer pot and packets of sugar. He didn’t have to ask to know that Sokka didn’t have the taste for black coffee, ‘in college’ or not. 

A timer went off in the back, and Katara went to check out what Bato had going. There was a pan of sweet buns on a cooling rack and a tray of savory meat dumplings in the oven. 

“It’s the oven,” Bato called back to her, preempting her question. She grabbed mitts and pulled out the dumplings, placing them on the cooling rack beside the buns. 

When she returned to the front, Sokka had spread out some of his homework on the table, and Hakoda was holding his mug in both hands to keep it out of his son’s way. 

Bato had moved his chair all the way around the table to sit on Hakoda’s other side. 

Katara didn’t mind being in charge of the early morning crowd, grabbing croissants and breakfast dumplings and making lattes. Bato didn’t like too much customer interaction, and he kept the ovens in the back running smoothly while she fielded orders. By mid-morning, regulars had claimed their spots at the rest of the tables, the ovens were full of lunchtime favorites, and Katara could take a short break to make herself a milk tea. 

Sokka came over to her then, leaning his elbows heavy on the counter surface. 

“Kataraaaa,” he whined. 

“What? I’m working,” she snapped lightheartedly. 

“Please, you’re making yourself a drink,” he said, brushing past that quickly, “Katara, have you noticed Dad being kind of weird?” 

Katara almost choked on her first sip of her tea. 

“What do you mean?” 

He shrugged, still sprawled halfway over the counter, and looked over his shoulder toward where their Dad sat with Bato. “I don’t know... if you haven’t noticed, maybe I’m just…” 

“They’re flirting,” Katara cut him off with a sharp whisper, leaning in so no one else would overhear. “Aren’t they?” 

He looked at her with wide eyes before nodding slowly. “I think so?” 

“Thank La it’s not just me,” Katara said. “It’s been like this since I started working here.”

“That long?” he exclaimed quietly. “Do you think they know?” 

Katara let out an exasperated stream of air through her teeth. “I have no idea.” 

They both glanced over at them: Bato was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and Hakoda had one elbow on the table, leaning forward into the periphery of Bato’s space. 

“Could we be misinterpreting this? Like, they’re really good friends, right? Maybe this is just…” she trailed off as she saw Hakoda rubbing a bit of flour off of Bato’s cheek, and Katara snapped her mouth shut. Sokka saw it too. 

“That was flirty,” Sokka said, and Katara couldn’t tell if he was more shocked at the blatant PDA or the fact that it was their Dad performing said blatant PDA. 

“I think we need an intervention,” Katara all but mumbled. Now that Sokka saw it too, there was no way she could keep living this way. This work environment was becoming too stressful. 

“What are we gonna do?” Sokka asked, limply leaning his weight further across the counter. 

“We’re not gonna do anything,” Katara said, pushing him lightly off the counter and wiping it down as someone came in the door. “You have class soon, so… Maybe I’ll talk to one of them.” 

Sokka nodded, moving to the side to get out of the customer’s way. He threw her a thumbs up and went back to his seat, pointedly ignoring Hakoda as he put his hand on Bato’s knee and laughed, throwing his head back. 

God, it looked like a scene out of a teenage rom com. Katara tried not to pull a face as she greeted the customer and took their order. 

Hakoda and Sokka were packing up by the time she handed the customer’s drink over the counter along with a sticky bun and seal empanada. 

“Ohh,” she heard Hakoda say as he swung his bag over his shoulder. “Bato, I have a meeting tonight. Do you think you could give Katara a ride home?” 

“Of course,” Bato said coolly. 

Sokka shot Katara a look, and she nodded. She’d bring it up to Bato then. 

\--

Bato swept up the front room as they closed in the late afternoon, already having wiped down the tables and put the chairs up, while Katara washed dishes in the back. They worked in silence, knowing the routine well. 

Katara couldn’t stop working herself up over the impending conversation that was going to happen in the car ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable around Bato. There wasn’t any part of her life he hadn’t been part of, after all. He had helped teach her how to tie her shoes, and taught Sokka how to ride a bike. He’d been there for them all when Kya passed away, and-- Katara’s train of thought stopped in its track. She couldn’t follow that line. 

If her Dad was ready to move on, and with the man who helped raise her and Sokka-- not only after their Mother’s death, but since they day they were born-- maybe it was time. Maybe Katara was happy for them (if that really was the situation, here). 

Bato appeared in the kitchen then and grabbed some of the dishes that were done drying, putting them away. She thanked him, and he shrugged it off. 

Her feet sang when she finally sat down in his car, holding her bag in her lap and watching the window nervously. It wasn’t a long drive to their house, so she needed to work up the nerve to say something quickly. 

Bato was tired, too, and he turned on some oldies radio station to fill the weary silence. 

Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. Really, if he and her Dad weren’t ready to be direct with each other, what was Katara saying something going to do?

Before she knew it, Bato was pulling to the side of the road beside the house and putting the car into park. He looked at her expectantly, but Katara didn’t move to get out. 

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” he said warmly, smiling and lifting a brow in confusion when Katara stayed right there in her seat, clutching her bag. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” she blurted out too fast to stop herself. Bato’s brows shot to his hairline, pinched slightly together with concern. Katara looked back down at her lap. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” he said, voice soft now. “Katara?” 

She nodded, acknowledging the sentiment. “Yeah, I just-- hm.” She chewed on her lip. “I’ve just been noticing… lately…” she trailed off, wishing she could just tell him to forget about it. “You and Dad…” 

Bato clicked his tongue, and she watched his brows lower to their normal place again, taking both his hands off the wheel and folding them in his lap. “Yes?” he said, his voice growing even quieter, careful.

“I just-- you know he--” she shook her head, trying to clear it. “You know he feels the same way back, right?” 

Now Bato cocked his head, and Katara wanted to shake him: you really haven’t noticed? “I’m sorry, can you elaborate?” 

“Well!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up now. “I mean, come on! I think every one of our regulars have noticed by now how you two-- are!” 

Bato was rubbing his hand into his forehead and the bridge of his nose now, and Katara had the decency to feel a bit bad. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just--”

“No, Katara,” Bato said, turning his face toward her a bit so she saw his expression, not just his tired profile-- and he was smiling, the same amused smile as the time she sent up a cloud of flour on her first day at the bakery-- only a slight wrinkle at the corners of his eyes gave any hint of caution as he resigned himself to this conversation. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know what to say.” 

She frowned at him, and he just shook his head again. 

“We didn’t know how to bring it up,” he said. 

Katara’s head went blank. We? Bring it up? 

“You…” 

“I understand if you’re upset,” Bato said, serious once more. 

Katara didn’t know if she was upset for a moment, too shocked to understand her own feelings-- until she realized she solidly was upset. Maybe she was happy, too. Shocked and upset and happy and confused. 

“Wait,” she said, and flinched a little at the sharpness of her own voice. It didn’t stop her from continuing, though. “How long have you two been...“ she waved her hand in the air, “then?” 

Bato took a deep breath, sighing on the exhale. “A while,” Bato said, and she was about to be upset about him being vague until she realized he was being perfectly honest, not evasive. What does a while mean to Bato? More than a few months, certainly. Probably more than a year. 

“And you just decided to keep it a secret from us?” 

He quirked an amused brow at her now. “Do you think we’ve been doing well at keeping it a secret?” 

Katara pursed her lips. “No.” 

“Look,” Bato said, turning to face her in his seat now. “Your father didn’t want to cause problems. We didn’t want to upset you two, and he wasn’t sure how you two would react.” 

Katara pressed her lips to one side, still pursed, and frowned at him. 

“‘I guess that makes sense,” she said. 

Bato took another deep breath and released it slowly. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Katara?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you two were being the most oblivious people in the whole world, and I was going to tell you to go for it, but now I don’t know what to think about you two going behind me and Sokka’s backs. But I get why, too.” She let her shoulders fall an inch. “It’s just-- you don’t trust us?” 

“That's not it.” 

“Either way,” Katara steamrolled on, “You have always been part of our lives. I don’t see why you would think keeping it secret was better than just telling us.” She let out a forceful breath through her nose, looking away from him. “But…” she trailed off, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, relaxing her shoulders. “I think I’ll be happy for you two. After you make it up to me.” 

Bato breathed a laugh, but nodded seriously. “I understand.” He peered out the windshield at the sun getting low in the sky. “The four of us should talk.” 

Katara nodded pointedly, and Bato peered at her from the corner of his eye. “I had packed some sweet rolls for you to give your Father,” he said, tone mischievous, “but if you would like, we could eat them before he gets home.” 

She didn’t feel like this conversation was quite finished, but Bato was right: they all needed to talk. 

Plus, a sweet roll sounded really good right about now. 

\--

They ended up eating the sweet rolls on the couch inside, and they chatted about school and the bakery and anything else that came to mind for the hour before Hakoda and Sokka arrived home. 

And the four of them did talk, and Hakoda hugged his kids tight when they were done, perhaps a bit misty-eyed. 

Hakoda ordered takeout, and as the four of them sat to eat together, Katara found that nothing had really changed at all. Bato smiled a little broader, and Dad sat an inch closer to his friend than before, but it was peaceful as Hakoda brewed post-dinner coffee. 

**Author's Note:**

> check out my atla blog [here](https://meteor-sword.tumblr.com)


End file.
